Defying Gravity
by kijani
Summary: A few short years after the war, Hermione finds her world torn apart once again. She finds herself back at Hogwarts. Will a few familiar faces be able to lift her spirits? Is there more to everything than meets the eye? Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **For the purposes of my sanity, I always put a little note up here. Been doing that since 2004, so I figured why break the trend? That said, please note I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein. I wish I did, but alas, I am not JK Rowling. And on that note, I'd also like to add that most of my pairings are not canon. I'm not a fan of the canon pairings in this fandom. I ALWAYS make a note of my pairings in the fanfiction summary area. If ya don't like it, please kindly hit your browser's 'Back' button and have an awesome day. Now—on with the fic!

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**Defying Gravity**

_Chapter One: Invitation to the Past_

It had been a few years since Hermione Granger had set foot on the sprawling Hogwarts campus. The last time she'd seen it, it had been practically in ruins, but now, as she stood in front of the large wooden doors that led to the main hall, she felt like a little girl again. It was just as she remembered it from the very first time she'd arrived as a wide-eyed eleven-year-old. She knew from the day the owl arrived that summer that this place and the wonderful people she would meet here would inevitably change her life forever. She just hadn't realized at the time that everything would change quite so much.

"Hermione?" The familiar voice brought an immediate smile to her face. She turned around, craning her neck a bit to look up into the beady eyes of the Hogwarts groundskeeper. She'd never lost contact with Hagrid. Over the last few years, they had exchanged owls regularly. "I didn't think you'd get here until the weekend! Classes don't start until Monday."

Hermione smiled. "I hadn't planned on it," she explained. "But I actually got here a little early because Professor McGonnagal wanted to speak with me before the students arrived. I think most of my things have already-"

"Took them up to the Gryffindor common room m'self," Hagrid told her proudly, poking his chest with a sausage-like index finger. "Everything's all ready for you. Do you need help finding the headmaster's office?"

"I think I remember the way, Hagrid, but thank you," Hermione nodded. "If you want to put some tea on, I can come out to your hut after I speak with her and we can catch up a little bit? It's been ages, hasn't it?"

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. "It has." He agreed. His gaze shifted downward, and he kicked at a small pebble with his boot. With the mass of hair shielding his face, Hermione couldn't make out his expression. "Hermione?" He whispered. "I uh... I saw the _Prophet_. It's a load of codswallop. Really is. But I... I'm sorry about Ron."

Hermione tensed, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She didn't like to think about the _Prophet._ She'd tried not to pay attention to most everything they'd written since Rita Skeeter smeared her name all over its pages in her fourth year. Things had gone downhill after that. Recently, it had only gotten worse. Harry and Ron had taken jobs with the Ministry shortly after the war, working in the auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Their job was to round up the remaining death eaters. Even with their beloved dark lord gone, a few still clung desperately to the dying cause. After spending a large chunk of her adolescent life in grave danger, Hermione had accepted a much less stressful position, and fallen into a wonderfully comfortable routine. She spent her days at the Ministry, she still got to spend time with her best friend, and she and Ron had made a habit of eating bad Chinese food and watching corny movies at least one night a week. Everything had been perfect until the rug was pulled out from under it all. Everything had been _perfect_ until the day she learned that neither Harry nor Ron would be coming home again.

"They knew what they were getting into, Hagrid," she replied, a bit more harshly than she meant to. She cringed at the sound of her own voice and turned, forcing another small smile as she met his gaze again. "Ron and Harry always did everything together, you know?" She added, a quiet sadness seeping into her voice. "I couldn't have talked him out of it even if I'd tried. Always so stubborn. Both of them..."

"Yeah," Hagrid whispered. Hermione heard a strange noise behind her, and the giant cleared his throat. Was he crying? He wiped at his face with his sleeve just as Hermione turned to look at him again. "Well, you ought to be going. McGonnagal'll be expecting you. Lots to do." Before she could reply, Hagrid spun about, plodding in the direction of his hut near the edge of the forest. 

Hermione took a deep breath and returned her gaze to the massive wooden doors. Everything looked as it had when she was younger, but there was still a certain trepidation holding her back. It had been so long since she'd walked these halls, and the last time she'd been on the grounds didn't exactly conjure many fond memories in her mind. She made an attempt to shake the nerves away and then took a step forward, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Her movements were almost automatic, and before she knew it, her feet had carried her up several flights of stairs and around a few corners. She'd only been standing in front of the statue that marked the entrance to the headmistress's office when it opened, and a set of stairs appeared beyond it.

McGonnagal looked just as Hermione remembered her. The war had aged her somewhat, of course. She had quite a few more grey hairs, and when Hermione looked at her just right, she could almost see a sadness there, as though the pain was etched into her very features. She beamed when she saw Hermione and promptly stood up from the chair perched behind her over-sized desk.

"Good to see you, Hermione."

"And you, Professor. Everything looks... It all looks very familiar."

"Ah, yes. Well, the restorations took a bit longer than we expected, as I'm sure you are aware. But, everything is now as it should be, as it always was. For the most part." She paused. For a moment, Hermione thought she might be preparing to say something more, but the silence hung in the air.

She cleared her throat. "I saw Hagrid," she offered, trying to sound cheery. "He said he'd already taken my things to my quarters in the common room. Professor, I, I mean, do you really think it wise? It's barely been five years. Technically, I didn't even graduate. I am honored. Truly, I am. But, don't you think there was someone more qualified for the position?"

"Certainly not," the old woman snapped back. She gestured to a Victorian-era armchair across from her desk. "Hermione, we're trying to build morale here. With everything that has happened, we wanted to bring in some familiar faces. Professor Flitwick is still here, and Professor Binns, of course. I finally convinced Professor Trelawny to return last year, and Hagrid never really left, but we have quite a few spots to fill, you see. Longbottom agreed to take over with the herbology classes, and the greenhouses, of course. He arrived yesterday. And Miss Lovegood has been here for the better part of a week."

"Lovegood? _Luna_?" Hermione clarified.

McGonnagal gave a short nod and began to scribble something onto a long piece of parchment. Even as she looked up, her hand continued to move. "I offered Bill Weasley your position, actually." She added. "He's graciously accepted the defense against the dark arts job, but declined any further responsibility when I mentioned that I was considering you for my former position."

Hermione balked at the information. "But Professor, he's ten years my senior! Surely a man with his experience would be more qualified for—" She stopped herself again, biting her bottom lip, and forced a sigh instead of finishing her initial thought. "I know he's had a rough time since Fleur took the girls. I haven't been around too much. Molly cries when she sees me," Hermione whispered. It was perhaps a bit more information than the older woman needed to know. She waited as a thick silence seemed to settle in the air between them.

"In _any_ case," McGonnagal continued, clearing her throat a bit louder than was likely necessary, "I am glad to have quite a few familiar faces back on the grounds. I think it will be wonderful for morale, and I have no doubt in your ability, Miss Granger, to tackle the transfiguration classes _or_ lead Gryffindor. As I recall, you knew your books nearly better than I did when you were a child. You will be _fine_. You wouldn't be here if I didn't think you completely capable of the task at hand. Now," McGonnagal finally dropped her quill, and her head snapped up again. She waved Hermione away and offered her a tight smile. "Go make yourself at home. Dinner will be served at the usual time in the Great Hall. I'm sure you remember?"

"I do."

"Hermione," McGonnagal breathed out. Hermione glanced up, surprised to hear her first name. "I'm sorry about Ron and Harry. I really am." 

The meeting left Hermione with far more questions than she had answers. She was back at Hogwarts, but so was Neville, Luna, and Bill. But why them? To boost morale? The thought almost gave her a headache. Could that be the real reason? Who would want them here, really? Neville, Luna, Bill... All had fought valiantly alongside Hermione, Harry, and Ron. But there had been countless others who had fought. Some had died. Hogwarts had been the boiling point of the whole thing, the bloodiest battle of the war with no doubt the longest list of casualties. How would having several constant reminders of that day boost morale for the newly remodeled school? Perhaps she was looking at it wrong?

Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione rounded a corner. The staircases liked to change places on occasion, and she could hear the stones groaning as the shift began. She didn't exactly relish the thought of waiting for them to change back. Unfortunately, she rounded the corner a bit too fast, and her foot slid out from under her as soon as it hit the stone floor again. She lost her balance, lurching backwards and flailed her arms in a feeble attempt to keep herself from falling to her backside, but gravity was winning the battle, and Hermione cursed, slamming her eyes shut as she went down and prepared herself for the painful sting of defeat.

She didn't recognize the pair of hands that wrapped around her arms, but instead of landing on the ground, Hermione found herself standing once more, her legs still somewhat shaky. She turned, her gaze meeting the familiar bright eyes of Bill Weasley.

For a moment, the man said nothing. Hermione opened her mouth to thank him, but for some reason, words wouldn't come out. She felt horrible. She'd been avoiding Molly and the rest of the family since the incident with Ron and Harry had made the paper. Hell, she'd jumped at the chance to work here when she'd gotten McGonnagal's invitation in part because she didn't want to face the awkwardness of passing her father-in-law in the Ministry atrium every morning. Bill had to know. He was Molly and Arthur's oldest son. Despite battling his own demons with Fleur lately, he had to know. She knew how close Bill was with their parents.

"Bill, I—"

"It's okay, Hermione. Just be more careful, alright?" His smile was genuine, and Hermione felt herself relax a little bit.

"Thanks, Bill."

"Hermione?" She took a deep breath. She knew what was coming next. There was a certain tone in a person's voice when they pitied you. Hermione hated it, but she'd heard it a lot lately. She braced herself. At least Bill knew. Bill had been there through the worst of it, and then she had shut him out. She'd shut all of them out. She wondered how angry he was. She wondered what he was going to say. She waited. Seconds ticked by with nothing but silence, but about the time Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, she felt the hand on her shoulder, and the reassuring squeeze it offered, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Thanks, Bill..." She repeated, her voice a bit softer than before.

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**Author Note: **Yeah, I know. This one is short, but I had to kind of leave it here for now so that everything else plays out when and where I want it to. Please feel free to review. I will have the new chapter up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the vagueness of the first chapter. I have my reasons! One of the reviewers in particular caught on to a few things that _don't_ quite add up just yet. Things are going to start making a little bit more sense in this chapter. Thanks for the reviews! Now, on with chapter two!

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**Defying Gravity**

_Chapter Two: All Over the Papers_

Hagrid's hut was just as Hermione always remembered it, and she still felt drawfed when she sat down at one of the over-sized chairs at his table. She found herself gazing out the window into the empty space that would be full of pumpkins soon. She remembered hiding there once when she, Harry, and Ron were trying to rescue Buckbeak. The urgent whistle of Hagrid's tea-pot brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up just in time to see the giant bringing her a steaming cup of tea. She sipped lazily at it as he took a seat across from her and smiled.

"Thanks, Hagrid," her voice was much softer than she meant it to be. "I'm sorry it took me so long. After I spoke with McGonnagal, I ran into Bill on the way to the stairs. Quite literally." She sighed. "I think a nice cup of tea will do me some good right about now." Hermione took another small sip. There was a bitterness to the taste, but beyond that, Hermione could taste a hint of milk and honey. "It's funny," she forced a dry laugh. "He's the only one who didn't really say anything about what happened, even though I'm certain he has more of a right to be angry than most."

"Why?" Hagrid's voice seemed to echo off of the walls of the tiny hut. "Why would he be mad at you, 'Mione?" Hagrid leaned forward until the tip of his beard nearly dipped itself into his cup of tea. "You know it wasn't your fault, right? No one who really knows you is going to blame you for what happened, and the _Prophet_? Well, hardly anyone who has any sense at all doesn't believe a thing they say anymore, so 'f I were you, I wouldn't worry your pretty little head over—"

Hermione shook her head and sat her cup down. "_No_, Hagrid. The _Prophet's_ right. They may have gotten the story wrong, but they were right about one thing: It _was_ my fault. That was my husband and my best friend, and I may not have killed them myself, but I can certainly see why the finger of blame is pointed at me. The only reason they were at that damn house was because of _me_, Hagrid. _I _sent Ron the damn owl after that little girl showed up with her mother at Werewolf Support Services. The only reason they left their office that day was because _I _sent them away, right into a bloody ambush. Might as well have been the one that killed them!" She could feel tears stinging her eyes, and she gripped her tea cup tightly, hoping it would steady her shaking hands. All it seemed to do was make the shaking more obvious. "I used to see Arthur every day at the Ministry. Molly still cries when she sees me, and I can't help but wonder... I can't help but think if maybe _they_ don't blame me, too?"

Hagrid sat in silence for a moment, a stunned expression on his face. He appeared to be thinking, although Hermione always had trouble discerning what he might do or say. She wasn't sure if it was the sheer size of him or the amount of hair that cloaked most of his facial features, but he was a hard man to read.

"Well that's just foolish," he nodded decisively after a moment. "You couldn't have known, 'Mione. You were just reportin' things, right? Just doing your job. And Harry and Ron, they were just doing theirs. And the _Prophet_? They're not right about a single thing. They just have nothing better to do, is all. They _had_ to make something up. The _Quibbler's _been doing better than them since the war, and they know it. You _know_ Xenophilius Lovegood isn't going to print such trash." Hagrid reached behind him, tossing a side a dusty old throw and a few tattered pieces of parchment. From beneath an old, upturned ink bottle and a small, leather-bound book, he pulled a yellowed copy of the _Quibbler_. He handed it across the table to Hermione. "Figured you'd be needin' to see that at some point, so I saved it for you. Even marked the article." He nodded. "Xenophilius knows the truth, 'Mione. And the article Luna wrote is the _real_ story, and we all know that."

"_Luna_ wrote?" Hermione blinked. It was the second time today she'd been somewhat surprised to hear Luna Lovegood's name.

Hagrid gave another nod. "Sure did. She took a job here, but she says she'll still be working with her old man when she can. It was actually Bill what told us you were going by your maiden name now, though." Hagrid offered her a small smile. "I hope you're not mad? We all knew what 'appened, of course. Was hard not to find out. McGonnagal'll tell you. Bill sat us down. Said you were having a rough time of it. We knew the _Prophet_ was trying to turn your name into a foul word again. Bill said it might make you feel better not to hear it for a while, that you'd started going by your maiden name. No one blames you, really. Molly Weasley's sent a fair share of howlers the _Prophet's_ way. Doesn't like seein' her family's name in the papers like that, I imagine. Bill said it's been a little rough. We just... We wanted you to be able to _breathe_ a little bit."

Hermione hid her face behind her cup of tea for a moment and took a long drink. The honey had settled into the bottom, and she licked her lips as she sat the cup down again, letting out a soft sigh. She absent-mindedly began to smooth over the crinkled edges of the_ Quibbler_ as she met Hagrid's gaze once more. For a long time, she simply let the silence hang between them. It certainly was nice knowing that she didn't really have to say anything. That wasn't the problem, though. The problem was that she wasn't exactly sure what to say, or how to say it. Were they having secret meetings about her? Did she really seem _that_ damaged?

"I really should be going," Hermione announced suddenly. Outside Hagrid's window, where the pumpkins grew in the autumn, Hermione could see the sun starting to sink below the treeline. "I still have to unpack and get everything ready for this week." She flashed him a guilty smile. "But we should really do this again soon? Maybe even make it a regular date? What do you say?"

The large, scruffy man offered a toothy grin and nodded. "Sounds like fun, 'Mione. Want me to walk you back to the castle?"

"No thanks. I know the way alright," she assured him. She grabbed up the issue of the_ Quibbler _that Hagrid had fished out for her and headed for the door. Just as they were inside the castle, the pathway leading back up to the main doors was so familiar that Hermione hardly had to think to get back. Her feet simply carried her where she needed to go, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of the portrait that marked the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

"_Jelly doughnut_," she whispered. The portrait swung open, and Hermione stepped inside, walked silently through the common area, and turned the corner to her quarters. Waiting for her inside the room was a trunk and several suitcases full of her things, and several sets of black robes with the Hogwarts emblem hanging in the closet with a scarf, hat, and mittens set in the Gryffindor colors_. _What caught Hermione's attenion most, though, was the small package on the bed. The box itself was no bigger than a shoebox, and was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. Tucked underneath the knot on top was a small piece of parchment folded down the middle with a note scribbled in barely-legible handwriting on the inside.

Hermione pulled the little piece of parchment free from its prison and scanned over the note inside. '_Before you get angry_,' it read, '_I wasn't in your room. I had Hagrid drop this off, even though I told mom it probably wasn't the best idea right now. I don't want you to be too surprised when you open it up, so I thought I'd give you a warning: It's pictures. Mom found them in Ron's old room at the burrow about a week ago. She insisted on sending them along when I told her you'd taken McGonnagal's old job. They're old. You guys were still in Hogwarts. Harry's in a lot of them, too. -B_.' Hermione took a deep breath and looked over the note again as she tried to decide if she really even wanted to open the box. She hadn't noticed the post-script on the first read-through. She brought the parchment a little closer to her face and squinted her eyes in an effort to make out the tinier writing. '_PS—You aren't alone, just so you know. If you think you might need a buddy for memory lane, you know where to find me. I know what it's like to need a friend._'

She folded the note back up and shoved it into the top drawer of her bedside table. Her gaze immediately shifted to the plainly wrapped box full of painful memories. With a deep breath, she reached two shaky hands forward and began to unwrap it. The lid to the old shoebox underneath was caving in in places, and most of the box itself seemed to be held together with clear packing tape. Hermione reached forward and started to lift the lid, but stopped herself just short of revealing the box's contents. Instead, she placed it atop the night stand and turned her attention towards the_ Quibbler_.

Hagrid had already marked the article that she was interested in. Hermione unfolded the paper and took another deep breath as she stared down at an old picture. Smiling up at her and waving like a fool was a fifteen-year-old Ronald Weasley. To his right was Harry, one arm draped around a widely-grinning Ginny Weasley. On his other side, Hermione saw a much younger version of herself, Luna Lovegood, and an awkward looking Neville Longbottom who seemed to be in conversation with one another until they realized that Hermione was staring down at them. They stopped for a moment to join Ron in his greeting before dashing out of the frame. Hermione turned her attention to the article just below the old photo.

'_That's me,_' the article started, _'when I was younger. This photo of me and my best friends was taken in a not-so-secret secret room at Hogwarts just a few years before the final battle in the war took place. I'm the odd one out in the photo, if you couldn't tell. All my friends were in Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and of course, if you haven't lived under a rock your entire life, you'll recognize Harry Potter there in the center. These people were my best friends, and for a while, my only friends. They taught me a lot when we were at Hogwarts, and when the final battle came to the castle's front doors, we fought alongside one another. In the photo, we look pretty happy, but what a picture can't tell you, even one that moves, is that when we took this photo, things had already started to go down hill. We spent quite a few days in that not-so-secret room learning to defend ourselves when the Ministry took over Hogwarts and told us we couldn't. We laughed together, we cried together, and we learned what loyalty really meant.'_

'What the photo also can't tell you is that despite the war that tried to destroy everything, despite the lives that were lost, we all managed to persevere. What this photo can't show you is that after the war, after everything we lost, life still continued on. Ginny Weasley plays for the Holyhead Harpies now. Harry and Ron became Aurors and worked for the same Ministry that we'd seen corrupt by power and greed just a few short years ago. Hermione took a job in Werewolf Support Services, and Neville and I? We're doing our own thing, too. Harry married Ginny, and his best friend Ron gave a toast at their wedding. Ron married Hermione, and Ginny and I were her bridesmaids. The so-called Golden Trio and everyone who knew them were normal people. Normal, happy people who wanted nothing more than to live normal, happy lives.'

'I don't usually read the Prophet_, but I'm sure those of you that do were glued to the pages when the _Prophet_ reported that the infamous Boy-Who-Lived and his best friend had been killed in an ambush outside London. The _Prophet_ claimed to have found out from another auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Harry and Ron were following a lead given to them by Ron's wife, Hermione. In subsequent weeks, the _Prophet_ went on to smear my friend's name, labeling her everything from a jealous spouse to a traitor to the cause. We here at the _Quibbler_ attempted on several occasions to contact the Editor-in-Chief at the _Prophet_ and urge that they correct their misguided information. They refused. Naturally, when this method failed, my father and Editor-in-Chief of the _Quibbler_, Xenophilius Lovegood, demanded that we print the real story ourselves. Usually, I take a more behind-the-scenes approach to helping my father with the paper, but when he wanted to run the real story, I knew that I wanted to be the one to write it.'_

'The Prophet_ has been making a profit off of the personal lives of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger for years now, but has rarely bothered itself with the facts. We at the _Quibbler_ would like to share a few of the facts with you that the _Prophet_ conveniently left out of its version when it was pointing the finger of blame. The _Prophet_ doesn't want you to know that Harry and Ron became aurors for a reason. While the world is a much safer place, there are still those out there who cling to the old ways, and yes, to the teachings of Voldemort. Harry and Ron risked their lives alongside many of us in the war, and then signed on with the Ministry to continue to do so in hopes that we could be a little bit safer every time we went to bed at night. They didn't have to do this, and they knew the risks, but they did it anyway. And you know what? They were good at what they did because they trusted each other. They were loyal friends. What the _Prophet_ doesn't tell you about the woman it wants to label a traitor is that just like Ron and Harry, Hermione was only doing her job. She was only doing what she thought to be right. Hermione was no auror. She worked in Werewolf Support Services, helping victims of werewolf attacks. And just between you, me, and the fence post? Hermione hated that her best friend and her husband were still running off and trying to fight the bad guys, but even though she wasn't running off every day with them, she still did what she could to help. Hermione did send an owl to Ron that day, but the _Prophet_ only shared part of Hermione's letter. The letter was sent after a report was filed—a report, which, if the _Prophet_ had cared to look, is still on file in both the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.'_

'The Prophet_ wants you to believe that Hermione set her husband and her best friend up. They want you to believe that a woman who spent her teenage years in constant danger fighting alongside her best friends against a man some of you are still afraid of, a woman who had recently married her best friend, would turn around and stab them in the back. The _Prophet_ gave you photos of the crime scene and a badly-lit photo of a half-piece of parchment with an address on it. The _Prophet_ wants to turn Hermione into a villain, and in its quest to do so, accidentally left out a few pieces of information. Like the fact that the criminals involved were apprehended, or the fact that aside from Harry and Ron, one man from the Werewolf Capture Unit also lost his life, and another one is still recovering in St. Mungo's. Or, the fact that there was another half to the piece of parchment that they claim condemns my friend.'_

Hermione paused, her eyes glassed over with unshed tears, and looked down at the second picture the article contained. It was a very familiar piece of parchment. She didn't even need to read what was written on the page, but she looked at it, anyway.

'Ron, Here's the address. I know you and Harry have the report, but something doesn't add up . Please, please owl me when you get back to your office. I'll meet you and Harry up there. I have some news that I really want to share with both of you. I love you. -Hermione'

She looked away for a moment and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She'd never gotten a reply because they'd never made it back to the office. She sat and she sat and she sat, and then she went home and paced until there was a groove in the floor. She tried to tell herself that they were alright. She even tried to prepare herself in case they weren't, but she couldn't have prepared for something like that. Not really. Hermione let out a shaky sigh and glanced back at the _Quibbler_ once more. There was one small paragraph left below the second picture.

'_If you would like to continue to believe the lies spread by the _Prophet_, please do so. The _Quibbler_ has brought you the truth. It has brought you proof. Continue to believe its lies if you wish, and perhaps one day your name will be smeared across its front pages. We are committed to bringing you the truth, and the truth is that Hermione, Ron, and Harry were best friends. They were family. And now their friends, and their family are grieving a great loss...'_

Hermione stopped reading and folded the old paper in half. She'd never seen Luna get quite so fired up about anything, but then again, she'd been surprised to hear that Luna had written the article in the first place. Hagrid was right. The _Quibber_ seemed to have more of the story than the _Prophet_ did. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

With another small sigh, Hermione glanced to the bedside table and picked up the old shoebox, cradling it and the halved _Quibbler_ under her arm, and padded towards the door. There was someone that she needed to go see.

–

**Author's Note:** This one was a bit longer than the first chapter, because hey, that's how I roll. In any case, this chapter was meant to answer certain questions, and raise others. I guess I'll see how many of you catch on when I check out the reviews! Chapter three will be coming soon!


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